Artificial Sex

I seem to have the summer blahs. I can't even make myself blog.

I have some problems. First of all, I'm tired. I'm just plain old garden-variety, everyday fuckin' tired. I travel too much. I work too much. I do too much laundry and housework (though one, upon entering my home, would never say, "My, you sure must clean a lot"). By way of punishing myself for sins committed, I swam not 40 but 50 laps last night. Then I came home, made dinner, did two loads of laundry, folded, put away, and promptly sat in the Comfy Chair and died. I missed Squeeze chat, I didn't get to talk to Mr M; hell, I even missed Letterman. I woke up at 1:30, washed my face, and transferred to bed.

Then, there's the puking. I ate lunch today, the same chicken & vegetables I ate last night and was perfectly happy with. After about 3 bites I got really tired of it and set it aside. Then, blammo. I threw up so hard my nose bled. That's hard.

Anyway, for the last few days or so, hell, maybe even weeks, I've had tiny thoughts rumbling around through my mind. Which is apt. It's a tiny mind. They're just fleeting thoughts of things, things I'd like to mention, but things that aren't nearly important enough to expand to a full-figured blog (The Playtex Full-Figured Blog!).

One is on another "My Man Couldn't Get It Up And Now He Takes This Drug And He's A Regular Bedroom Wonder And Boy Am I So Grateful Because I'm A Brainless Simp And Have No Life Of My Own Without Him And/Or Even Though We're Being Portrayed As Upper Middle Class Here I Apparently Can't Afford A Vibrator" commercial. I think this one's for Levitra. (I actually know a girl named Levita. It's very close, you'll notice.)
 
After the woman tells us all how happy she is because her heretofore limp husband got his second wind, so to speak, Mr Voiceover Announcer comes on and tells us the side effects of wonderdrug Levitra. As they do. One side effect is a runny nose. Now, I don't know about you, but the last thing I want is some man all pilled up on Levitra jumping on top of me with his nose dripping.

I just hate those erection pills. I still say they could be out there finding a cure for cancer or the common cold instead of finding new ways to perk up a man's weenie. A weenie's either meant to work or it's not. It's not up to us to change Nature's Plan. And now they have the female version of them! Avlimil! (Not to be confused with precocious Canadian singer Avlamil Lavigne.)
 
I love the Avlamil commercials. Some young, beautiful woman saying, "I used to want to all the time. Then the kids came along and the time was never right. Now, I just don't have the energy. The desire."

Yeah, in the real world, that's called life.

Oh well. I guess they had to come up with something for the women who were having to deal with their husbands all hopped up on weenie pills. And they couldn't come up with a drug that turns your husband into George Clooney. Really, Avlimil pales in comparison if you think about it.
 
Oh.  And my hair's falling out.